


growth spurts & longing

by mydestination



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Force Sex (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, Masturbation, TLJ Spoilers, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 11:06:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13480185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydestination/pseuds/mydestination
Summary: Since the last few days, Rey found herself growing (in more ways than one) an affinity for her newly enlarged breasts.





	growth spurts & longing

**Author's Note:**

> set after TLJ. maybe 2 months in.

Since the last few days, Rey found herself growing (in more ways than one) an affinity for her newly enlarged breasts.

It was a gradual, but unexpected development. Consistently foraging for sustenance in Jakku’s intense heat hindered Rey’s growth substantially. It became clear, after overhearing two traveling wives chat about their “monthly” issues, that Rey’s growth was not only limited to the stunting of her height and weight. Rey lightly palmed her left breast, admiring the combined sensation of firmness and pushiness that’s akin to an expensive jelly-filled sweet she had once furtively touched and received ten slashes on her back for “the thought of stealing.” Rey, absentmindedly, attests the newfound growth to the additional nutrients she has been consuming aboard the _Falcon._

At the onslaught of her cohabitation with the other Rebel members, she overheard a few women whisper that her breasts looked like “mosquito bites.” Rey, typically unconcerned with something as blasé as her _appearance_ when she has spent the majority of her life struggling to survive was slightly affronted at the remark. She did not know what “mosquitos” were exactly, but she was aware of the fact that she was less endowed than the other Rebellion women and from their hushed remarks and resounding giggles, she knew that they were essentially making fun of her. She remembered flushing and statically marching back to her chambers. That night, with their whispers still ruminating in her head, she pulled her breast band down to her stomach and examined her chest in the cracked mirror across her bed. She lightly pinched a nipple, observing it darken and harden into a point. She doesn’t actually care, not really. But, she muses, her areoles could be a tad smaller, resembling more like women she accidentally stumbled upon on a dirty hologram late one night, subtle and tight.

“It seems like the Force pulls us at the most inconvenient times.”

Rey gasped, her hands flew to cup her naked chest. “Go. Away.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

She turned and faced him. “You probably planned this! You pervy, lewd, deviant snake!

Kylo quirked an eyebrow. “You do know that all those are synonyms.” 

This observation only served to increase her ire. She reached out and poked him in the chest, effectively dissolving their previous hiatus of withholding touches since their moment on Ahch-To. “I don’t care! Turn around if you have to!”

Kylo looked down. Rey looked down and felt all her blood rise to her face. Her breasts were exposed, nipples tight and straining in the air. How utterly debauched she must look right now: face colored a dianoga-red, chest heaving, nipples upturned and exposed with nary an inch of space separating her body from Kylo’s. 

“Rey,” Kylo started, the look of his dark gaze made something flip-flop in the pit of her stomach, “I suggest you remove your hands from my chest or I might have to—“

The Force cut him off. Rey still wasn’t sure whether she should be jumping in glee or mourning his abrupt disappearance before he could complete his sentence. All she was aware of, as she stared into the blank space where Kylo was, was the sound of her heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears.

Now she has garnered a newfound appreciation for her once smaller chest. Whenever she practiced her combat training against Finn,—“Rey I beat _Phasma_ you know?” he would repeatedly affirm each time she expressed hesitancy to spar with him—she has to compensate for the extra buoyancy with an XL breast band double-wrapped. The end result constricts her breathing and she finds herself more often than naught pausing her training to catch her breath.

“In a real battle the enemy is not going to allow you time for a water break.” Finn non-too-helpfully interjected.

Rey rolled her eyes. “Thanks so much for your useful advice. I just thought that I only had to raise my hand and the Supreme Leader would wave me off for a potty-break.”

Finn shrugged. “Maybe just wear less—” Finn gestured in the general area of his chest, “so, you know, you can breathe.”

“Why, so you can have more opportunity to stare?” She huffed, hands splayed on bent knees. 

“Whoa,” both of Finn’s hands went up in defense, “don’t shoot the messenger. Everyone has been talking about your sudden… growth. You aren’t the first girl to battle top-heavy. Force, I bet even Phasma had some decent sized knockers under the chromium armor. Besides,” he added, a rakish smile worming his face, “I already have a pair of boobs that I have been paying _considerable_ attention to as of late.”

Rey rose and stretched one arm behind her head. “Yuck, can you spare me gory details of you and Rose? I don’t want to picture you doing… that. It’s enough that I have to catch Ben nude.” Finn was the only other person, besides Luke, who knows of the Force connection she shares with Ben Solo. She made him swear up-and-down not to breathe a word to anyone else after he walked in on her arguing with the air, especially Poe. Her decision to keep her precarious Force bond with Ben a secret has treasonous potential. Even with the tentative camaraderie she sparked with Poe, she’s not too keen on his philosophy for the Rebellion being “the spark that would light the fire that would burn the first order down.”

She swiveled her head. “Also, what do you mean ‘everyone has been talking?’ Since when has the size of my tits been a hot conversation starter? Don’t we have a war to fight? Which, by-the-way, we’re still way too outnumbered even with the addition of 67 more members.”

“Rey,” Finn scratched the top of his head, finding the right words to say in the least offensive way, “You got to admit, it doesn’t make sense for them to grow that big that fast. People are going to get curious and are going to talk. You don’t even want to know the oddest conversations I’ve overheard while waiting in the food line.” Finn shuddered. “People are really _weird._ Makes me wonder if we have to be just a tiny bit more selective with who we’re adding to the Rebellion.”

Rey got quiet. Why is it that of all of her qualities, everyone just focuses on her body? When she had a smaller chest, she was viewed as inferior to the other Rebel members. Her sensitivity to the Force, her successful defeat against one of the strongest living Force users, her piloting skills… everything reduced to nothing because she didn’t live up to the ideal woman. Now, when the opposite is true, her reliability and authenticity is questioned. How is it possible to feel so alone in the midst of hundreds?

Noticing her the turn of her thoughts, Finn ventured to alleviate her mood, “They’re all full of bantha shit though. It’s only because you’re so powerful they think that by cutting your sense of being into body parts, you’ll be lowered to our plebeian levels.”

Rey gave him a weak smile. She’s not alone. Finn became her first _real_ friend, foraging a bond that was close to familial as she’s ever gotten. A tiny voice in the back of her head, however, asserts that it isn’t Finn that assuages her loneliness—that she’s only been feeling this way because she hasn’t made contact with _him_ in over three weeks. “It’s only because I am eating real food now instead of portions. I wasn’t aware that there was a taste outside of bland.”

“Yeah,” Finn responded, “Who knew the way to take the Chosen One down was by adding one measly jalapeño to our morning porridge.”

“Finn, it felt like my tongue was falling off!” They continued their banter as Rey reasserted her fighting stance, training with Finn until well into the evening. She ignored the niggle of anxiety that persisted throughout something along the mechanics of Force bonds and Ben.

She sees him again in the mess hall during the scheduled supper four days after her spar with Finn. She chokes a bit on her caf as he materializes on two Rebel members simulating a mock battle against the First Order using standard forks (which Rey still has trouble wielding, it’s less efficient than hands!) and peas. Rose pats her back. “You okay?”

Rey tries to disguise her laughter into a cough. Ben looks like a regal cat in a sea of porgs, donned in his set uniform black attire and wearing a serious expression as the two Rebels, with fanfare, mimicked explosion sounds.

“You find my presence humorous?” Kylo deadpans.

Rey sputtered another cough and shook her head.

“Is there a reason you are remaining mute?” 

Rey rolled her eyes. After the hundreds of Force conversations they’ve shared, one would think that it would be easy to pinpoint instances when they are surrounded by others. Ben and her developed a code in one of their late midnight sessions purely to avoid these awkward situations. They were sharing stories of their most inconvenient Force connections when Rey, laughing over Kylo’s account of a time she manifested balancing a spoon on her nose while Kylo was Force choking Hux. Her appearance startled him so much he accidentally dropped Hux into large bowl of prune juice. Rey gasped for air, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. “Ben, we should come up for a set of tells to let the other know that they’ve come at a bad time.”

Kylo cracked a smile. She loved it when he smiled, it made her forget the Light and the Dark and that they are supposed to be enemies and war… and it made something flutter in her chest. “Like what?” he humored her.

“Um,” another chuckle escaped her. “How about this: if you stick your thumb inside your mouth, that means you’re around people and can’t talk.”

“Rey, isn’t the intention of this to remain inconspicuous, not the opposite?”

Kylo had a legitimate point, but he also had a full-blown grin as he said this, dimples stark against his cheeks and Rey found that she didn’t care that the code was silly. Not even a little bit.

Now, as she stuck her thumb inside her mouth surrounded by her peers and commanding officers, maybe she should’ve put some stock into Kylo’s half-hearted point at the time.

Kylo’s lips trembled and he put a hand to his mouth. Rey’s eyes widened, she abruptly arose, mumbled something about the ‘fresher and left the mess hall. “Maker, you knew!”

Kylo tried to compose himself. “Knew what?”

Rey turned red. “Don’t play dumb!” she looked around and lowered her voice, “You knew that I was around people when the Force connected us.”

He laughed, the sound did something funny to her insides. “It was your idea. We might as well put it to use in some way.”

It was Rey’s turn to laugh. “I can’t say that I would’ve behaved any different if I was given the chance.”

Kylo nodded. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence that was unfamiliar to them. This has been the longest period of time that the Force hasn’t connected them. She opened and shut her mouth, each attempt only half-formed thoughts that don’t encapsulate even a gram of what she wants to say.

Kylo finally broke the silence. “You missed me.”

It wasn’t a question. She wanted to deny it—no she doesn’t miss him; she didn’t have a hollow ache in her chest at the prospect of the bond forever closing on them; or the thought of Ben shutting her out, of leaving her just how her _family_ left he—

“Rey,” he reaches out and cups her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I will never leave you. _Never.”_ The calloused pad of his thumb brushes her bottom lip. He leaned down, she felt his warm breath ghosting the edge of her ear. “I missed you.”  

She sputtered, words escaping her. She wanted to tell him that she missed him too—she missed their sleepy babbles in the wee hours of the night, their light banter, the rough rasp of his morning voice when, to her surprise, she would catch him rising past noon—but, to her avail, the Force connection broke off once again. If withholding the truth of the connection itself was treasonous, then her thoughts now would be considered even more so. Her feelings for Ben were abstract—it didn’t feel like the affectional, protective connection she shared with Finn, nor does it feel like the yearnings she had of her family. If she had to compare it to something, it felt more akin to the bond itself—inextricably linked, functioning as one organism. She knew that if Ben died, there would be an empty hole of where her other half she be. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly where she started to form these feelings for him, but now she is aware that they have been latent for some time. The seed was planted at the beginning of the force connection and has flourished subsequently since then. Like the rare plants she would find rising in Jakku’s most infertile plains, the bond would continue to persevere against all odds. It is the purest form of nature itself.

She touched her bottom lip, the imprint of his thumb lingering and marched back into the mess hall. She knew in a battle against Kylo she would have to kill him. She also knew that she would never be able to do it.

Yeah, she’s in real trouble.

Inside the mess hall, Rey found an empty secluded from the others. She doesn’t typically seek out solitude, but she was left unbalanced after her short exchange with Kylo. She worried her lip. Shouldn’t the bond be stronger? After she closed the door of the _Falcon_ on Ben, the bond didn’t even stutter, connecting them several times a day, sometimes for hours. The three-week hiatus certainly came as a surprise and now their reunion was barely a brush of a hello. She doesn’t want to admit how much the thought of that crushes her. She doesn’t want to think about when their next force connection will be.

It’s not just her reunion with Kylo that left her unhinged… Since her return from “training” with Luke, the other Rebel members have been treating with either hero-worship or disdain. She was displeased to find that some even looked at her in fear.

“I’m still me,” she remembered telling Finn with irritation one day.

“Rey, _I_ know that, you know that, but _they”_ he gestured his arms around, “they don’t know that. They didn’t know you from before. Most people here see you as some god who plopped from the sky. You know?” he itched the back of his head. “It’s kinda scary… one person having so much power.”

Now she understands why Luke isolated himself with only fish nuns for company. It’s tiring, holding the weight of the universe on her shoulders. She remembered her awe at seeing Luke for the first time, mouth agape and eyes imploring him to come back as the galaxy’s savior. Already she thinks back to her behavior in shame. What’s the difference between her then and the others now? She doesn’t want to think about their depleted numbers anymore—or Poe’s next suicide mission, or Leia’s rapidly declining health while everyone is pretending that everything is alright. That’s the funny thing about pretending; once you start, you don’t know when to stop.

All Rey wants to do right now is to focus on finishing her stew.

“Rey,” she hears. Immediately she stiffens, mourning her brief respite. It’s interesting how she once lamented her solitude and now she yearns for privacy. She watches as Rose warily approaches, as if she was a frightened fathier ready to bolt.

“Hey, Rose. What’s up?”

“You left the mess hall rather abruptly.” Rose sits beside her. “I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Rey feels bad for being short with her. Her shoulders relax. “Don’t worry about it Rose. The stew didn’t settle well in my stomach, that’s all.”

Rose gives a pointed look to the bowl of stew Rey has before her. “Rey, I know it’s not any of my business, but Finn told me.” 

Rey’s heart stops.

Rose worries her lip. “I know that you haven’t been feeling too well about your recent growth spurt, so-to-speak.”

She feels a shuddering breath escape her and chuckles awkwardly. “I think Finn misunderstood. I’m pretty content with my 'growth spurt,' but thanks for checking in Rose.”

“That’s not it Rey, _I_ know.

Rey blinks, heart pounding. “Know what?”

Rose huffs, perturbed that she has to explain. “I’ll admit—I’m not the one to know the most about these things, and Finn probably has even less of a clue but,” she lowers her voice, “you’re pregnant aren’t you?”

There was a pause. Rey laughs, the sound so loud that it jerks Rose a bit and a few heads turn to stare. “N-no, I’m not,” Rose still looks unconvinced. “I can’t be, it’s impossible.”

Rose blushes, embarrassed. “Oh.” She coughs. “Sorry, um, it’s just there were all these signs—the bigger breasts, the fatigue,” she nods her head toward the stew, “the sickness. It was the most popular theory among us and the most realistic to be honest,” she groans. “Goes to show who I should listen too.”

Rey nods her head awkwardly, ready to extricate herself from the conversation. “I appreciate you telling me this Rose, but I have to go.”

Rose nods vehemently, already some part of Finn seeping into her behavior. “Ye-yeah of course… If you ever need anything, I’m here.”

Rey smiles in acknowledgement and she rushes to leave, a thousand thoughts streaming in her wake.

The memory comes involuntary, the intensity and heat of it still tangible. It was after her interlude with Ben, when she bared her naked chest to his eyes. She was in bed, blanket wrapped around her torso and legs sticking out of the edges. Even after living in a desert for the majority of her life, she still isn’t used to the heat.

Her dream featured a couple intertwined, the details blurred. It’s snippets of wanton cries, grinding bodies and sticky thighs. Rey wakes up, unsatisfied, a need so acute it leaves a hollow ache in her lower belly. Her hands snake below her undergarments, where the throbbing is most concentrated. She skims past the coarse hair on her mound and touches copious wet flesh. She’s explored herself before, on long nights in Jakku, but not like this. Never like this. She whimpers when she first makes contact with her sensitive flesh, wanting so badly to come, _needing_ to come.

She feels the heat of his body before she hears him.

“ _Fuck,_ Rey,” he groans, taking in the sight of her underwear askew and nimble fingers delved in her folds.

She is too far gone to care about him seeing her like this. “ _Please,”_ her voice cracks.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want Rey,” his own voice is gruff. His hands slides to rest on her lower stomach, the edge of his little finger brushing her curls. His voice is low, cajoling. “Do you want me to touch you here?”

“Lower, _lower,”_ she gasps out, eyes clenching shut.

He toys with the curls at her mound. “Here? I need you to be more clear Rey.”

The words are wrenched from her. “I-I want you to touch my clit,” she wets her lips, mouth dry, “I need you to, so bad, please, please, _please.”_

“Ssh, ssh,” his thumb slides to rub tight circles on the protruding nub. “ _You’re so fucking wet._ All this for me?” Her body jerks at the sensation and she emits a high-pitch whine. She feels his hard length twitching against the curve of her back, pre-come seeping from the tip and leaving a stamp along her back. He slows his stroke, coming to a still on top of her clit.

“ _No_ ,” she screams, trying to move his hand away so she could finish herself. “I was so close.”

He grabs her wrists with his still-wet hand and pulls them over head. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself when I’m here.” He bit the corner of her ear. “Do you understand?”

She nods her head, his order somehow arousing in this context.

“I need to hear you say it Rey.”

“I won’t touch myself when you’re here.”

He kisses her brow. The first kiss anyone has ever given her. “Good girl.”

He resumed his ministrations, but lighter. She cants her hips toward his fingers, needing more friction. “More, please Ben.”

He ignores her plea, choosing to run his fingers along the length of her labia. Marveling at the wetness he finds, he finally rests his middle finger against her opening. “Has anyone ever touched you here?”

She shakes her head. He slides his index finger in her opening.

“I didn’t hear you Rey,” slowly sliding his finger out.

“N-no no one has ever touched me. You’re the first,” she confesses.

She feels his wave of exhilaration and possessiveness through the bond. She is suddenly despondent. “And you,” she bites out. “Has anyone ever touched you?”

The tips of his ears tinge red, he continues the slow pace of his thrusts. Flashes of his past come unbidden. There was a girl, blonde and slim, when he was training with Luke. She glimpses stolen, wet kisses in the safe alcove of the night and awkward fumbling’s of his hands beneath her binds. “Not like this,” he eventually says.

She closes her eyes and nods. He is also inexperienced. Nonetheless, the jealously of _someone else_ still rears hot and ugly.

He thrusts another finger, pulling her from her musings. The stretch slightly burns and she whimpers.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” his cock is insistent along her back. “I want to be inside you.”

A mixture of excitement and fear surges through her. “W-we can’t. You’re too big.”

She almost thinks he doesn’t hear her, basking in the fantasy of joining together. “We’ll fit. Your body will stretch for me. It would be magnificent.” He removes his fingers from inside her. She blushes at the squelch his removal makes. He lifts one of her legs and entreats her to hold it. The cool air on her folds makes her shiver. Her underwear is stretched beyond repair. He grasps the base of his cock drags it along her cunt. The hard knob of the head bumping against her clit.

She cries out a sound almost inhuman. She glances down at his length, the head an angry purple-red and a stark vein running along the side. A pearly drop of pre-come curls around the tip. The sight spurs her arousal and she finds herself grinding back. Ben stops. He roughly grabs a clump of her hair and pulls her head back, notching the head of his cock against her opening. “Do you want it, Rey?” He is so consumed with lust that his words are unintelligible.  

She nods and keens, pushing against his length.

“Rey,” he reprimands, grasping her chin and turning her face. “Say. It.”

His eyes look feral, pupils blown out. She thinks that she must look the same too. “Yess,” she hisses. “I want you cock inside me. I want you to com—“

He suddenly thrusts inside her. Kylo never does things in half-measures, including this. His thrust is unrelenting. He doesn’t ease his way inside, letting her unused muscles acclimate to the new sensation. It burns too much, too fast and tears come unbidden. She bites her lip to keep from moaning in pain.

“ _So tight,”_ he chokes. His walls are down and his thoughts are ricocheting off the walls: _warm, tight, velvet, so good, love._ His every fantasy and dream falling short of the actual reality of her.

“B-Ben, wait. Wait, please,” she breathes through her nose, “I—t-too much. I need to adjust.”

He gives one curt nod of acknowledgement, staring ahead at the blank walls. Slowly, her muscles loosen, the pain lessening. She clenches and unclenches her muscles, testing the solid column inside her.

“Stop,” the grip on her waist is bruising, “ _Stop.”_

She halts. “Is it painful for you too?” His walls are up.

“No,” she hears his smile, “I might spend myself like a pubescent boy.” He presses kisses along her neck, some of his tension releasing. “I want to make this good for you too.”

A wave of affection courses through her. “It’s already good for me because it’s you.”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need too. She can feel his utter worship of her through their bond.

He pulls back and thrusts again. It is still painful, but she concentrates on other things. The wet slap of his testes hitting her cunt. The sounds of his harsh exhales. The ache in her hamstrings from holding her legs up for too long. There is one particular drag of his cock that touches a part of her that her smaller fingers have never reached.

“ _Oh.”_

He groans at the pleasure he feels from her through the bond and he hits that spot again. And again.

She digs her nails into the plushy duvet. The orgasm she believed was long-gone boomerangs with a higher intensity. Her head is lolls side-to-side, and her body jostles with his every hammer. She has no control of the sounds she emits, each more desperate than the last. The ball of pressure in her lower abdomen is pulling tighter and tighter—Kylo’s once steady hammers are becoming staggered. He leans down, she thinks he’s going to kiss her

He tugs and suckles on her nipples, laving one with his tongue and then nipping her areolas—“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful. You probably don’t have a clue of the absolute _power_ you have over me.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses around the expanse of her small breasts. “ _This_ is what I wanted to do when I saw you earlier, fuck. I was so hard just from seeing your bare tits.” As he sucks a swollen nipple, peering at her beneath dark lashes, he reaches his free hand and strums her clit with a force that makes her break—

“Oh Gods, Oh Gods, Ben, fuck, _Ben—” her_ mouth opens in a soundless scream and her ears pop. She doesn’t resurface from her orgasm until Ben comes, brows knit and eyes clenched shut.

Then he’s gone.

She feels his spend trickling from her opening. She reaches between her legs and examines the evidence of their coupling, a discharge whiter and thicker than her own.

She’s in the makeshift medical room now, hands gripped tightly around the table as she waits for the practitioner to examine her.

Could she be pregnant? It was one time and through the bond. She’s isn’t wholly sure of the mechanics of a successful fertilization, but she’s positive that both parties need to be at least physical present. That an encounter spanning light years does not have the capabilities to make another human life form, but she isn’t sure. Even after putting on extra pounds and maximizing her nutrients, her periods are nowhere near regular. But—she does the math—she is technically late and—

She inhales and exhales. This is something she’ll worry _after_ she gets the results from the test.

A tall woman with frizzy hair enters the room followed by a medical droid. “Rey, right?” she glances down at her holographic pad. “No surname, no medical history?”

She nods.

“You just want a pregnancy test?”

“Yes,” she answers. This woman is blunt.

“You know you can just buy a test for a tenth of a credit. They are ninety-nine percent accurate. I’m not necessarily needed for this.”

“Oh,” she hadn’t thought of that her hurry, “I just wanted to be sure. If you can do other checks or—“

She huffs. “Fine, I’ll have 2-1A73 take a blood test for you,” she raps her knuckles on the metal hunk beside her. “He’s the gentle, nursing one between the two of us. Aren’t you 21-A?” her voice raises an octave higher as she says this.

21-A73 affectionately beeps back.

“Usually, I mainly aid in surgeries—21-A73 here is actually a surgical droid—but, with no other practitioner here, I’m now regulated to everything.”

Rey nods absently.

“And you don’t care. It’s fine we’ll finish the blood test, get your result and get out.”

“I’m sorry—it’s just, I don’t know what I’d do.”

The physician snorts. “Don’t worry about it. I get it, you’re anxious. It’s life changing,” Rey feels a prick at her shoulder and winces, glancing as the med-droid glides away with her sample. “It’ll only take a minute—the process has very much progressed. It used to take _weeks,”_ the practitioner looks up to see Rey blankly looking at the space between her shoulder. “And you don’t care,” she sighs. “I’ll be right back with your results.”

After Rey hears the _clack, clack_ of the doctor’s heels fade, she moves to cup her hand to her lower belly. “Are you in there little baby? I know can’t probably hear me, but it’s a scary time for you to come. We’re fighting a war,” she chuckles. “Trying to save an entire galaxy as a matter of fact. And your daddy isn’t necessarily the best man, but—“ she jerks her hand away. What is she doing? She doesn’t even know if there is a baby in there. The entire idea of a baby was planted by Rose not even an hour back. Yet she immediately accepts the idea of carrying another life form, finds comfort in it in fact. She feels her face heat up—does she want this? How inappropriate. She’s struggling to survive, it’s preposterous to hope to care for another being. She hears the swing of the door open again.

“Ok, Rey. You’re results are in, I want to be the first to say congratulations—“

Rey feels something bubble in her chest. “Oh—"

“You’re not pregnant.”

She expects relief to come. Instead, she is crushed with a wave a disappointment so strong that she has to blink a few times to re-equilibrate herself. Did she want a baby? Why? She can barely even hear what the practitioner says next—

“…the increase in breast size, as I am sure you are wondering about—as a matter of fact, I bet this is what even spurred the concern of a pregnancy!—“ she guffaws, “well obviously, it’s not due to a pregnancy anymore. Gleefully check that off your list! It’s simply due to hormonal changes. You’re getting an increase in estrogen,” she pauses. “When was the day of your last menses?”

Rey rattles a number.

“Ah, yes—and you just started courses, I’m sure,” Rey nods in assent. “Well, this explains the increase in breast size.” She moves her shift aside and quickly examines her breasts, Rey squeaks in surprise. “Yup, and it looks like you don’t have much more to grow. The rest of your weight should catch up soon enough so you don’t look so out-of-proportioned. I recommend just having a healthy diet, honestly. There’s not much else to say. 21-A will provide you with more information on the specifics of what you should eat in our rather limited storage.” The practitioner rubs the back of her head. “I need a break,” she looks up. “You’re free to go.”

Rey is numb after as she gets off of the table. Go figure, she was right about the increase in nutrients being the cause of her breast gain. Her satisfaction rings hollow. Why did Rose even bring up the possibility of a pregnancy. Why did she even believe her? She knows that if there was a life growing within her she would feel them through the Force, their signature alight with energy and _hope._ She would never be lonely again. She puts a fist to her mouth, desperately trying to hold her tears at bay. There would be someone to _live_  for. Someone who needed her, who would love her unconditionally. And she would do the same. Yes, in the short span of time she believed she was pregnant, she knew, she _knew_ she immediately loved her baby. Even that has been ripped away from her. She has nothing.

She is nothing.

That’s how Ben finds her. Curled up into a ball in huddled space in a corner of her room, bellowing gut-wrenching sobs. The pain he feels is so crushing, so overwhelming, a pit of darkness that extends for eternity. He instantly panics.

“Rey—REY,” he rushes to her, forgetting about their supposed animosity. He gently cups her chin, extricating her arms from her face. The sight of him seems to spur more tears. Kylo carefully examines every part of her body, looking for any signs of injury. Rey presses her face against his shirt, wails heaving from her chest.

“What. Happened.” Kylo can barely get the words out. He would _kill_ anyone who has lifted a fucking finger against Rey. He would absolutely decimate them and present their remains to her like a fucking offering—

Rey wordlessly offers Kylo her memories of the last few hours through the bond—her conversation with Rose, and the subsequent medical visit. As he digests all of this information, his hold on her shoulders eases. He swallows. “And… finding out that there wasn’t a baby pushed you to this?”

Rey lets out a shudder. “I just—I wouldn’t be alone anymore. It’s like someone gave me a baby to love and adore and then just stripped them away from me.” Her voice comes out in a croak.

Ben runs a hand through his hair. “W-We can’t. Rey, you know we can’t—there’s not even—right now,” his voice cracks. “Gods, I can’t even talk.”

“I know—trust me, I know now isn’t the best time. We’re enemies and there’s a war and I’m so young and—“ she smiles bitterly. “What would you have done if I was—you know—if I was pregnant?”

A tic forms in his jaw. She sees the stream of his actions—leaving the First Order, descending from Supreme Leader, giving up _everything_ to take Rey and their child away. Her vision blurs—“You would leave—“ she makes a weird noise. “That’s what it would take?”

“I can’t—I won’t,” he struggles to sort what he wants to say. “My parents were too busy for me growing up. I—I don’t want—I _refuse_ —for that to happen to my own child. I won’t let any harm come between you guys.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t leave now! Leave the First Order and come join the resistance. There’s light in you, I feel it—“

“Rey,” he implores, eyes sad.

"Don't—don't say my name like that. Your mother misses you— _I miss you_.”

He doesn’t say anything.

She hiccups. “Please,” her voice breaks, remembering his plea for her that he made not too long ago.

He moves. She closes her eyes and waits for him to dismiss her—expects him to recite all his idealistic notions of why he can’t join the resistance, why Jedi are wrong, but he does neither. He cradles her face in his hands, fingers trembling, and _kisses_ her. She thinks the heart she hears pounding in her ears is hers, but she isn’t sure. His kiss is awkward, head turned at the wrong angle, their noses bumping. Yet, somehow, this is startling more intimate than what they did three weeks ago. His kiss is bruising, beseeching her to return with equal fervor. She does. Kissing him back with matching enthusiasm. She pours her sincerity and hope into their kiss, as if her first was her last. He pulls back first, mouth swollen and face flushed. She imagines she must look no better.

“Ben, I—“

“Rey, I know,” his smile is sad, “I feel—I feel it too.”

The pressure releases from her ears and his discombobulated voice fades. She’s alone—

She eases back onto her bed, much studier than the Supreme Leader’s, and touches her mouth.

— She knows it won’t be for long.

**Author's Note:**

> post TFA i didn't even understand reylo, after TLJ i'm unabashedly a reylo fan. i haven't written a fanfic in over 6 years—i haven't even had the urge to write a fic. i love this fandom so much. furthermore, i'd like to apologize for any grammatical errors i surely had, i was in a hurry to post. i would appreciate to hear feedback. thanks so much for reading.


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